Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall, Who has the Wickedest Dreams of all? || Alfons' Route Release CE ||
>> Alfons' Card Story || His POV <<
Victor || His POV ||
Ellis || His POV ||
Liam || His POV ||
William || His POV ||
Roger || His POV ||
Jude || His POV ||
Harrison || His POV ||
Elbert || His POV ||
POVs really depends on whether I get to the top100 but I'm only gonna make an effort for Elbie, Alfons, Jude, and William. Other's are... well, depends on my free heart points. hihi.
Alfons' has suuuuper hot scenes I tagged it as private for the meantime to protect my account, so the link will be attached late~~~
**All vids are uploaded on my channel : viennna sui. đđđMaster ListsđđđMain Masterlist đđ
Very silly thought but if Roger from Ikemen villains has super crazy hearing, isn't he always just listening to mc fool around with William??? Isn't that awkward or embarrassing?? Lolol
Cyran x Reader
Angst/Hurt/Comfort
~1.5k words
Prompts: determination, love, loyalty
My entry for Wish Upon an Aide Creation Challenge & the collaboration with none other than @wordycheeseblob ! Saki prepared the artwork -- the story is inspired by it.
To view the full artwork, visit @wordycheeseblob !
The clacking of high heels called order in the halls. The maid leaped off the sill and onto the floor, hands smoothing out any real and imaginary creases present over her uniform. Mildly embarrassed, she lowered her head.
âDo you know where Cyran is?â Emma asked.
âThe word has it that Sir Rose has not returned.â
âDid you hear? Prince Clavis returned tonight, just before the dawn,â a maid chirped, vigorously polishing one of the tall windows lining the hallways in the residential wing of the palace. Not quite ladylike, she stuck out her tongue and stood on her very tiptoes, the cloth in her hand coming just short of reaching the upper end of the frame. She put her knee up on the windowsill.
âTruly? No, no, I wasnât aware, no. AndâŠ?â her companion mused. âThis is rather disgraceful, dear.â
âIt is not like anybody is going to see.â The girl pushed herself further up, to eventually stand rather steadily, one pristine hand pressed against the wall for stability. A single stray strand sneaked out of her updo and fell over her forehead, perhaps challenging her to blow it back into place. âBesides, thatâs not important.â
âThat is youngsterâs naivete,â the other sighed. âWell, what was it that you heard then?â
Hooks were undone and knobs were turned. The white apron billowed on the wind as a handful of rowdy gusts rushed inside, more than ready to rummage through the princely chambers and other kingly dwellings. âSo you are curious!â She winked. âApparently he was beaten all black and blue, so he wonât make any appearances for a while⊠And the word has it that his first knight, Sir Rose ââ
The clacking of high heels called order in the halls. The maid leaped off the sill and onto the floor, hands smoothing out any real and imaginary creases present over her uniform. Mildly embarrassed, she lowered her head.
âDo you know where Cyran is?â Emma asked.
âThe word has it that Sir Rose has not returned.â
***
Sir Rose has not returned, Emma was told by what felt like a hundred of mouths.
He hasnât made it home.
He had to stay back.
They were supposed to meet up at an inn, butâŠ
⊠but there was nothing following that âbutâ. Angered or desperate, or perhaps both, so thoroughly dissolved in each other that they ceased being either, she stood before Clavisâ room. The oaken door stared her down, old dark knots furrowing their grain-brow. A guest uninvited, Emma turned and pressed and pulled and pushed at the brass knob â and although it replied each time, be it with a bzzzt or a whoop or a snap, the door did not budge.
âPrince Clavis?â She knocked. Emma took a step back, anticipating some sort of explosion, or a contraption, concoction, trap⊠Something, anything, to befall her.
Nothing had.
âPrince Clavis?!â
Nothing.
âClavis, goddammit!â
Not a thing, regardless of how hard her fist struck. Thinking it was just a cruel joke, a tactless prank, Emma let her feelings pound away at the wood, impact shaking her down to her very bone marrow. Hinges rattle-cackled, laughing only louder the longer she fought. As futile as it was, Emma did not lack in persistence. No, far from it â her will was a rock, only solidified by the gossip still churning in her mind.
It was only when the afternoon sun tinted the corridors in vibrant vermillion, so very familiar, that Emma regained some of her reason. She hid her bruised hand in her skirt, head hanging low.
âClavis?â she called one last time, her voice rasp. To no answer, of course. Defeated and deflated, Emma turned away from the door, dreading being swallowed and digested by the ever-present silence.
***
Follow me â
Emma burst out of her room, carried forth and entrapped by the winds still lingering in the halls, little different from a gale herself. A force petrified with uncertainty, she clutched the letter to her chest. Her body did not hurt; it was the motion that found her, pulled her through the gaps between the hastily jotted down lines, made unstoppable by the sliver of hope setting her thoughts ablaze. She didnât want to oppose it. Not when the singed paper fit in her palm so warmly, so crumbled and mistreated it could easily fall to dust. The previously dreadful corridors, overly long staircases, the dewy gravel and the shivering afternoon â it sped by her. Emma simply ran.
Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies.
The message was unnecessary; it had branded her mind the moment sheâd first read it. A fresh burn, it sizzled and it howled, each of its whines revealing a fragment of the path. Like through a haze, Emma ran, faster than her legs could carry her. She skipped over the road leading to the town in a flash, the wicked buildings and their convoluted streets sprouting seemingly straight from the depths of the ground to entrap her. Not a single familiar path remained in place, trade signs playing the game of tag and rearranging themselves. The capital drowned in a mist conjured by the voice of a siren-heart, the cafes, restaurants, stores, all somehow bearing the familiar flickers of red hair, phantom figures moving behind the glass displays, playing out stories of days long lived through. Echoes of laughter coiled around her legs, the sweetest doubts weighing down her heart.
Emma ran.
Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies. I will â
He would.
So she had to meet him there.
Emma tore away old nostalgia strings. She averted her eyes from the coffee shops, forgot about the happy pair that once sat by the door and drank tea as golden as her eyes. She let go of the memory of the dark cherries, of her loveâs delight, of the feeling of his hand over hers, of his lips and their timid caress. Cast away, they shattered under the heels of her shoes, the shards being swept under the hem of her skirt. She could collect them later, put them back together, smelt them anew if time allowedâŠ
⊠if there was still time.
Emma ran.
Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies. I will meet you there after midnight strikes.
The town ceased, plains opening to greet her to then turn into hills. Completely in their domain, winds broke off the leash, trickster gusts pushing at her back while gales took her hands and pulled her onwards. Through the sea of swaying grass, past thorny blackberries, prickly thistles with their purple crowns and grooves and rivulets and other scrubs â Emma ran, out of breath despite having become the air personified. Stumbling as she did, she reached the clearing. Their clearing, although then it was already occupied, an all too familiar sword protruding from the ground. Scarlet blade stared at her, basked in the last of bloody sunlight.
Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies. I will meet you there after midnight strikes. I promise.
Red roses reeked of sweet decay as Emma took a shaky step. Abandoned by the strength of elements, she could all but crumble on the spot â yet even in that, she chose to crumble onwards, dragging her pained feet until she faced the dearly beloved sword properly. She set her hands on the hilt and sat on the ground. Accompanied only by the hooting of the owls, Emma closed her eyes, waves of desperation that led her thus far easing into a state of calm.
He promised, she repeated to herself. He promised, so he will come.
***
Brilliant sunlight had begun to flicker over the horizon line by the time Cyran made it back to the hill. Beaten and battered, still encased in the constraint of his military garb, he dragged himself through the winding path hidden among scrubs. A broken branch there, an odd clearing here â he did not notice anything. Not until he saw the carmine hue of Emmaâs skirt, a rough scrap hanging off the raspberry branch, hardly different from the ripe fruit surrounding it.
Cyran run.
Metallic thudding banished exhaustion from his limbs, thunderbolts lending him their speed. The world ceased in a blur, light tore its way into the diminishing dark â and it was only after he entered the clearing that he was robbed of his might. Cyran forced his body to oblige to his demands, the woman he longed to see sleeping while sitting upright, hands propped on the hilt of his sword.
âEmma?â he whispered, not believing his eyes. She must have been soundly locked in her dreams, however, for she did not reply. As if cocooned in the fabric of the night, Emma swayed lightly, perfectly in sync with the crimson roses blooming around. Petals fluttered, few discarded ones lifting off the ground, huddling towards her to settle in her hair. Still just as surprised, Cyran sat down behind Emma, pulled her frame into his arms. She was a feather when she fell against his chest, so very light he feared his hands may be too rough to handle her. Nevertheless, he found his courage again and swept her hair aside, his fingers brushing against her cheek in reverence as he unveiled her visage. His touch descending to her neck, his arm reached to free her from her duty at the hilt â
âCyran?â
He kissed her nape. âIâm back.â
His forehead pressed against her shoulder, Cyran prayed to always find her safely there, enchanted where the crimson roses bloomed under the clear skies.
I pretty much have no idea what Iâm doing. I donât trust me, and you shouldnât either. This summary is not guaranteed to be accurate, itâs mostly written for myself to follow along with all the lore that was just dropped.
Emma has had a recurring dream where she finds a book in a beautiful rose garden and reads it. Unfortunately, the book is unfinished, and leaves her feeling unsatisfied. We then get a summary of Acts 1 and 2 - Emma was chosen as Belle, the woman to choose the next king of Rhodolite from a selection of 8 princes. She also has to go undercover due to the visit of 3 foreign princes. Ultimately, she gets through her trials, chooses a good king, doesnât get entangled with anyone, and avoids being chained up in Gilbertâs love dungeon. This should count as a happy ending to the story, but it leaves Emma feeling unfulfilled. She wants to have her own adventures, learn more things, meet new people, and maybe fall in love with someone.
Emma eventually wakes up from her flashback nap only to find that she is still in the bookstore, having fallen asleep while reading a book. Just as she starts to get up to close the shop, she realizes sheâs not alone.
The shopâs owner and her adopted âtoo young to be a dadâ not-father has returned. He often travels the world, purchasing and selling rare books, and is back from his last year-long trip.
Though he is not a native to Rhodolite, and still wears the beautiful, eye-catching clothes from his native home in Ruby, he has set up a permanent shop in Rhodoliteâs capital city. And, he has taken care of Emma since she was a child.
Akatsuki, the shop owner, reveals that he knows all about Emmaâs time as Belle, as Sariel had been sending him regular letters. He had hurried home when he heard that pipsqueak from Obsidian had also shown up, but it looks like Emma got through that ordeal just fine without him.
Emma assures Akatsuki that nothing major had happened during her time as Belle, and she had actually enjoyed it. It had given her a new perspective and opened up new avenues of interest for her.
Akatsuki points at the book Emma had been napping on and asks if thatâs why sheâs changed from romance novels to studying continental history.
This segues into Emma admitting that she feels trapped in a small world since her last experiences and wants to travel the world just like Akatsuki does. Akatsuki offers to take her with him on his next trip.
Emma is excited, and Akatsuki tells her that as his valued employee, itâs time for her to learn how to purchase books as well.Â
Akatsuki unfurls a map and sits with Emma. While not usually a problem, these days things are a lot more dangerous than they were. Emma asks if itâs the 3-country alliance between Tanzanite, Ruby, and Acroite. She heard about it briefly during her time as Belle.
And yes, thatâs exactly the problem. Right now, the countries are not hostile, but this could be the calm before the storm. Akatsuki asks if, despite knowing of the danger, will Emma leave the relative safety of Rhodolite and travel to these countries with him.
If this had been before her time as Belle, Emma probably would have refused. But now, after meeting the princes of Rhodolite, Emma agrees without hesitation.Â
So, the next step is to choose the country. Each has its own dangers, but it is how Akatsuki will get his rare books. Notably, Akatsuki is somewhat hesitant about going to Ruby.Â
Since this is her training trip, Akatsuki generously lets Emma choose their destination. To help her decide, Emma asks Akatsuki to tell her about each country.
TanzaniteÂ
Tanzanite is the land of divination and illusion. Everything is determined by the living god.
The living god is a person born with silver hair and silver eyes. But - itâs not just his appearance that is unique - he is clairvoyant beyond anyone in recorded history, each of his prophesies/predictions has come true. He is considered a miracle bestowed upon Tanzanite by god.
Meanwhile, in Tanzanite
In the Tanzanite throne room, filled with people bristling with excitement, a huge moon shines down as if protecting the people.
With one word, the living god Azel is able to silence the entire vast room of people. With a benevolent visage, Azel tells the crow that god has this spoken and tells them to develop the policies to follow the divine will. Or donât, itâs their choice whether or not to follow divine will. Just donât make a choice that they will regret. The heavens will be watching.
Finished, Azel stands up and simultaneously the crowd falls to their knees, their heads pressed against the floor. Among the crowd, the King of Tanzanite tells Azel that there is a banquet being held in his honor and asks him to attend. Azel politely declines - he canât imagine anyone would enjoy their meal if god were to attend. Heâll just quietly return home, no need to see him off. He bids everyone a farewell, praying that god will bless them.
As he leaves the group, Azel finds himself alone in a quiet hallway lit only by the moon, the night's natural calm returning. Or almost alone.
A woman is waiting for him, dressed in provocative dancerâs garb. She is carrying a variety of dishes and asks if heâs in a good mood. Azel thanks her for her consideration, but he must decline. The woman points out that he already declined the banquet held by the king, but after that divination, he must be hungry. At this, Azelâs traitorous stomach growls. Again, Azel thanks her and declines, mentioning that he is actually in a hurry, and could she get out of his way?
The woman moves to block his path completely as Azel tries to brush past her. Azel loses it, calling her stupid and refusing to understand him no matter what he says. He trips the woman over his foot, and she falls to the ground, dropping all the food.
Azel feels so sorry . . . For the wasted food. His eyes full of compassion, he laughs and asks the woman to lick up the food. She is stunned, and Azel explains that it goes against his morals to waste food. He gesture at an upturned bowl of soup and tells her to crawl to it like a dog and lick it up so it isnât wasted.
Of course, Azel isnât a tyrannical monster, heâs not forcing the woman to do anything. Itâs her freedom to choose to follow the living godâs will or not.
The woman hesitates, but in the end, she brings her face down to the soup and licks it up. Soon, her body grows hot and her gaze clouds with lust, and she looks up at Azel. Azel surmises the soup must have been laced with an aphrodisiac- he guesses the poor womanâs fortune isnât good at all today.
Or rather, she is extremely fortunate. The living god, Azel, will keep this a secret between them and wonât tell anyone about her misdeeds.
Azel walks past the woman and calls over his shoulder that she can feel free to take care of herself, or any other option she might have available to her. He will take his leave now.
The woman reaches out to try to cling to his legs and tells him that she loves him. She would do anything, give up anything for their living god. She asks Azel if these feelings she has for him truly is a sin?
(Azel does not appreciate his almost-rapist declaring love)
Azel turns around and tells her that god doesnât love anyone, since it doesnât give him any advantage. Well, maybe if she gave him the same amount of money Silvio does, he would consider it. But as she is, she has nothing he wants.
Azel thinks the woman still doesnât understand, so he will say it plainer. Get out of his sight, he canât stand her. The woman gasps as the compassion drains from Azelâs face. His eyes are as cold as a desert night, and he looks down on her as if she is an insect.
Most of the time, itâs not love that people like her feel, itâs greed drowning stupid women like her. Under the moonlight, Azel laughs coldly and without any sense of compassion.Â
Everyone in this country protected by god is living a happy dream. On the day the dream crumbles away, Azel wonders when people will get over the shock and laugh with him.
Acroite
The country is built on a steep mountain range where it snows year-round. Everyone follows strict laws, making it the safest country on the continent. The laws are enforced by the Keepers of the Laws, people who can set aside their humanity and rule everything fair and balanced.
Recently, the penalties for lawbreaking have become harsher and more severe, but the country is extremely stable and orderly. If someone commits a crime, the Keepers of the Laws will make you pay.
Meanwhile, in Acroite
Snowflakes, large enough to be mistaken for flower petals, flutter down on the houses, coating everything in a white winter wonderland scene.Â
The lamp-lit street is bustling and full of people, but unlike other cities, there are groups of people missing. There are no beggars, drunks, or youths itching for a fight. It is because in this country, those activities are illegal, and one can expect to be swiftly arrested.
However, there is a corner where a large group of women have gathered, all jockeying for position. One woman after another asks Matthias to join them at a party, or for dinner. Matthias politely thanks them and explains that he doesnât want to be late for work.Â
Matthias Osbrink, the First Prince of Acroite, the Keeper of the Law. He has blond hair the color of the fading rays of twilight and sad eyes the color of snow in shadow. While he has a stiff demeanor- he is still considered very appealing. The women around him gaze at him with enchanted expressions.
He combs back his hair with a sigh, to the delight of the women watching, and hurries away. A fellow judge walks next to him, patting him on the back sympathetically. He teases Matthias for being so popular with the ladies.
Matthias complains that his coworker didnât help him at all, after all, Matthias is famous for not being good at dealing with women.
The coworker agrees that he knows that, but unfortunately, he is too busy being envious of Matthiasâ luck with women to help him out. If anything, he wanted to switch places.
Matthias asks if his coworker noticed the look in those womenâs eyes. They were the eyes of a warrior, determined to annihilate the enemy.
The coworker is taken aback, he was certain they were just lovely women.
Matthias complains that he doesnât care if they are beautiful or not, the problem is that they are not his soulmate.
His ideal woman is someone who doesnât venerate him, nor does she look at him like sheâs preparing for war. In fact, sheâs the type of person who would kiss him goodbye in the morning while adjusting his tie. Afterward, she would smile gently as she waved goodbye and . . .
Yes, yes, this isnât the first time Matthiasâ coworker has heard this fantasy. Honestly, he would say it is starting to get embarrassing, but they passed that mark a long time ago.
Quietly, Matthiasâ coworker asks if heâs okay. Matthias points out that heâs spent the past ten minutes explaining how heâs not okay and needs to be rescued from these warrior women.
Thatâs not what Mathiasâ coworker meant. The defendant for todayâs trial is Matthiasâ friend.
Matthias summarizes his relationship with the defendant. They were roommates at the Royal Academy, and when they joined the National Guard together, they were in the same unit. Matthias recalls him as being a good person, with a cheerful personality, smart, and witty. And, unlike Matthiasâs coworker, was good with handling women and could help Matthias out of the situation before.
(Conflict of interest? What is that?)
Matthias sees no problem with handling the trial. After all, he is a member of the Osbrink family.
The seat of the countryâs justice, the royal court, was filled with a solemn crowd of defendants, lawyers, state officials, investigators, and a large number of citizens. The five judges, the Keepers of Law, sit high above with everyone watching them.
Matthias summons the defendant, accused of selling secret Acroite military information, forward to testify. While the defendant looks haggard, there is a gleam of hope in his eye. It is well known that the defendant was friends with the Keeper of Law, Matthias.
After the testimony, Matthias rules that there is no reason to exonerate the defendant from his crimes. The defendant disagrees, he made a mistake, yes, but death is too heavy a punishment for it. Matthias disagrees, the law is the law, and as a citizen of Acroite, the defendant must abide by the sentence. The execution will take place in five days at noon.
The defendant collapses, and Matthias watches him being taken away with snow-shadow eyes. With that, Matthias ends the trial and closes the court.
After everyone leaves, Matthias remains behind in the empty courtroom. In the same emotionless voice, he used when he proclaimed the sentence, Matthias mutters that he did the right thing just now. Heâs the Crown Prince of Acroite, the land of snow and laws. Itâs his duty to condemn and punish all evil.
Ruby
The last country on the list of options is Ruby, the land of Cherry Blossoms and Turbulent Times. The situation is complicated, the country is in a 3-way civil war, each with foreign backing. In theory, there is a royal family, but theyâre all on opposite sides.
There is, however, a safe area, in Kagari-Yakshaâs territory.
Yaksha? Emma asks Akatsuki to explain that.
Itâs a title of sorts given to one of the faction leaders, a true battle fanatic who has never lost a fight. If they go under his protection, theyâll be safe. For now. As long as he doesnât decide that theyâre his enemies.
Meanwhile, in Ruby
A group of men run through the forest, hoods low over their heads and swords hanging from their belts. When they near a red-tiled castle illuminated by lanterns, they halt and gather to strategize.
A voice begins counting them, 100, 200, at least less than 400. The men all start and grab at their swords, searching the darkness for the voice.
Without a sound, a man with fiery red hair and green eyes appears before them. He asks if they were planning on launching a night attack with so many worthless people. Honestly, theyâre barely even worth killing. Compared to all the other factions, these people are barely more than half-trained children. The man asks if they are still planning on going through with their attack. If they give up and turn around now, heâll let them leave.
One of the attackers notes his hair and eyes and identifies him as Kagari, the Yaksha. Another attacker laughs, explaining that from the rumors, he was expecting a beast of a man, but instead its just some pretty guy. Itâs not bad to be disappointed from time to time. Besides, even if he is the warrior of rumor, he is but one man against â
Another hooded attacker recoils as the speakerâs head falls to the ground. Kagari apologizes, he grew bored of waiting for the speaker to finish talking. He tells the men that heâs kind of busy, so rather than killing them one by one, he would prefer it if they just all came at him at once. Hey, even weaklings like them might give him some entertainment if they work together. When one of the attackers protests, Kagari tells him not to get angry, heâs just telling them the truth.
The difference in their ability was obvious.
Kagari notes that this is what itâs like to be weak. Even if they never met him, these men would have still died young. He dodges their attack like a wildcat, his movements quick and efficient. With each stab of his sword, a vital area is struck, and bright red droplets dance like cherry blossoms in the wind. The final attacker tries to run, but Kagari throws his sword, striking the man. Kagari bemoans how heartless people are these days, leaving their comrades to die alone.
The final attacker explains that theyâre not comrades, heâs a mercenary who was just hired to do a job with them. He begs Kagari for mercy.
In this country the strong are good and the weak are evil. Therefore, a weak person like this mercenary has no place in Ruby. If he dies here and now, he doesnât have to go through life being a weak coward who hates himself. Really, Kagari is doing him a favor.
He kills the man quickly, and then disappointedly notes that everyone else is dead.
The quiet night is interrupted again by the sound of approaching footsteps. Kagariâs subordinates arrive, and he orders them to send the bodies back to their employer. The subordinates complain that Kagari went off without them again. Kagari asks if they want to be killed along with the attackers. The subordinates grow pale and Kagari tells them that he was just joking. Mostly.
Kagari sheathes his sword, and the atmosphere lightens. He tells his subordinates that heâs fine on his own, and if theyâre useless in a fight, theyâll just get in his way. But even he understands strategy enough to know that the more pieces one has, the better.
No one chases after the Yaksha when he walks away.
With an unsteady step, Kagari settles beneath a cherry tree, and notes that there is a full moon tonight. He watches some of the petals fall in front of him.
(Some days you just wanna take a nap)
The bushes next to him rustle though there is no wind. Kagari asks if theyâve come again.
A cat pops out of the bush and meows at Kagari. Kagari meows in reply and tells the cat heâs especially bloody tonight, so they should stay away. The cat doesnât heed his warning and approaches Kagari, tail held high.
Kagari muses that if the cat lives in this country, theyâre probably used to the smell of blood by now. He lies down, using his sword as a makeshift pillow. The cat trots over to his side and when he strokes under their chin, they begin to fall asleep.
Kagari complains that the cat is too small, too fragile, and too forgetful to survive. Theyâre going to die soon. Then again, the cat is choosing to sleep next to the Yaksha, a good choice to live a long life.
A shadow flickers in Kagariâs eyes and he pulls his sword close to himself. He wonders when the next battle will be. Tomorrow, the day after?
Unfortunately fighting doesnât put food on the table. If things continue, he may starve to death. He needs to hurry up before that happens, and then everything will be easier.
Rhodolite
Finished talking about the four countries, Akatsuki turns to Emma and asks which country she has chosen.
Emma thinks that all the countries are interesting, and any one of them would be a good choice. After listening to Akatsuki, Emma chooses.
areudirty
janainaart
dededos
andulkaphoto
germansingergirl
vaporwave
